


Tie

by MistoffLikeKristoff



Series: The Object of My Affection [2]
Category: Cats (2019), Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alcohol, And a lot of touching, Champagne, M/M, Past Abuse, a fancy party, erotic tie tying, just a reference but it is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistoffLikeKristoff/pseuds/MistoffLikeKristoff
Summary: Chivalry was all fine and good in theory but they’d barely made it past some (honestly intoxicating) kissing.
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Munkustrap
Series: The Object of My Affection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623436
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	Tie

He knows how to tie a bow tie.

He’s done it hundreds of times. Cross, lift, fold, loop, loop, tighten--so WHY did it keep turning into an uneven, creased mess around his neck?

Mistoffelees scowled into the mirror, tugging on one awkwardly-long bit of silk and unraveled the tie for the fourth time. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t nervous.

He closed his eyes, let muscle memory take over. Cross, lift, fold, loop, loop, _lopsided again_. He exhaled loudly, definitely not a huff but perhaps close to it.

A soft knock on the door followed. A knock on HIS door, which still felt a bit unreal. Munkustrap had insisted that they move into a two-bedroom flat after they started dating. Said Misto deserved some privacy, his own room, something about an uneven power dynamic. Mistoffelees mostly remembered staring at his lips.

“Mistoffelees? Are you doing alright in there?” Munk’s gentle voice was muffled by the door.

“Y-yes, maybe-- no.” Mistoffelees’ voice trailed down. “Come in.”

Munkustrap had been unfailingly chivalrous, which meant respecting personal space; he never entered Misto’s bedroom without permission. Or embraced him without confirming that it was wanted. Munk took things very slowly. It was charming, a lovely benefit of dating someone so respectful, and it made Mistoffelees feel cherished. He truly had nothing to complain about.

But if he was being honest, only to himself, Mistoffelees might admit to being a bit… unsatisfied. Chivalry was all fine and good in theory but they’d barely made it past some (honestly intoxicating) kissing. Misto’s life was unrecognizable when compared to even a year ago, vastly improved by every possible metric-- but was it wrong to want more?

Munkustrap opened the door, and Mistoffelees inhaled sharply at the sight. He was ready for the gala in a slate slim-cut suit, paired with silver pocket square, still stockinged feet. The hint of grey at Munk’s temples was so dashing. Misto was surprised by the roiling hunger he felt. The unruly bow tie fell from his fingers. Munk stooped to grab it, all dancer’s lithe grace, and wrapped the silk gently around Mistoffelees’ neck. He set to work on the tie, face so close that Misto could feel his breath when he chuckled, “I’m still not great at doing this on other people, the angles are all wrong.” Munk’s fingers delicately brushed his chin.

Munk’s eyes were so beautiful and clear, his lowered eyelashes so long. Mistoffelees was drowning. Was he getting light-headed? Oh, no, he was just holding his breath-- Mistoffelees unceremoniously wheezed and tried to disguise it as a cough.

“Oh no, did I choke you?” Munkustrap, always so careful. Misto felt a tightness growing in his rib cage when their eyes met. It ached.

“It’s quite fine, just a tickle in my throat. Did you get it?”

Munkustrap took a step back, out of Misto’s space, taking all the warmth in the room with him. “All done. Let me know if you like it.”

Mistoffelees turned back to the mirror and sure enough, a lovely symmetrical bow tie.

“Ready to head out, then? Everyone from the foundation is dying to meet you,” Munk gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

How could Mistoffelees feel unfulfilled, really? When everything was so perfectly nice.

  


* * *

  


The Deuteronomy Foundation held charity galas fairly frequently, climaxing in the grand Jellicle Ball in the autumn. The Ball involved an elaborate annual theme and couture to match-- Mistoffelees was relieved to debut at a smaller event, wearing his stage tuxedo, freshly pressed and mended.

The taxi ride over was tense. Munkustrap kept assuring Misto that everyone would love him. Deuteronomy herself was never seen at events besides the Ball, so less pressure to impress. Misto fidgeted with a cufflink so aggressively that it sprung free and they spent a few anxious moments trying to retrieve it from between the seat cushions. “These are just normal people, Mistoffelees, like everyone else, but… unimaginably wealthy.”

“You’re not helping,” Misto muttered, moving to adjust his tie before thinking better of it and sitting on his hands for the rest of the ride.

Munkustrap had been a ballet dancer, quite renowned, so he was accustomed to appealing to rich art patrons for support. When he’d injured his knee, Lady Deuteronomy helped him transition to a new role, helping with Foundation responsibilities and managing the cafe where so many of her dear little artists worked. Munk was great at taking care of strays.

Part of the job was looking good for parties, wearing a big smile, and thanking rich people for sponsoring Deuteronomy’s initiatives. Tonight, that meant ballroom dancing in a handsome hotel, with a string quartet and elegant floral arrangements and plated hors d'oeuvres, well-dressed attendees gossiping over cocktails.

Munkustrap collected two glasses of champagne from a tray and pushed one into Misto’s hands. Bless. He resisted the urge to down it in one shot.

A gentleman in a dark purple suit, collar popped, was lingering in the foyer, eyes darting. He jumped forward at the sight of Munk. “This is so dull, mate,” the man moaned. “Why do we ever let Jemima organize these things? When we all know that I’m the only one who can throw a proper party.”

Munkustrap shot the man a flat expression. “Tugger, you know Jemima works just as hard as you do, and the events she plans have a different feel. Can’t be the same all the time.”

Tugger laughed out loud, head thrown back. “Stuffy old Munk says we need variety!” Tugger’s eyes moved to Misto and looked him fully up and down. Misto tensed under the scrutiny. “Speaking of variety…”

“Tugger, Mistoffelees. Mistoffelees, Tugger. We’re going to have a lovely time tonight, and I suggest you try to do the same?” Munk narrowed his eyes. “And I’m begging you, be polite to the donors.” Munkustrap ended the conversation by ushering Mistoffelees towards the main ballroom. Misto waved awkwardly as they walked away.

“Munkustrap, so good to see you!”, a stunning blonde woman in a glittering blue gown touched Munk’s shoulder with a gloved hand. “How have you been?”

“Demeter, lovely to see you as well,” Munk brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Demeter, this is Mistoffelees, he’s my date this evening.”

Mistoffelees shuffled his champagne glass between hands so he could extend his right hand politely. Demeter gasped with delight, “Oh Munk, he’s adorable! Give me a hug, you precious little thing.”

“Be gentle, Demeter, he’s new to all of this,” Munkustrap winked at Misto and wrapped a firm hand around his waist. Was Munk being a little… possessive? Misto was surely reading into it. Mistoffelees took a long draw of champagne. Oh no, his glass was already empty. A waiter immediately plucked it from his hand.

Demeter grabbed Misto by the elbow and began to tug. “Munk, let me borrow him! Come, Kitten, you must dance with me!” Before Misto knew what had happened, he was pulled beneath an enormous crystal chandelier, spinning couples all around, dancing to a lilting waltz. He could handle a waltz, right? Was there more champagne available? He scanned his eyes back to the crowd, sought out Munk, throwing him a slightly panicked expression. Munk responded with a beaming smile, a tilt of chin, gentle encouragement, which set him at ease. Demeter pulled Misto’s hand to her waist and grasped the other in the air.

“One two three, there, you’ve got it!” Demeter’s voice was sweet like bells. Misto resisted the urge to stare at his feet. He only bumped into a few people, which was probably a success? Demeter was smiling a lot, that seemed like a good sign. “My wife Cass never comes to these things with me, and even when she does, she doesn’t like dancing to classical music. My only option is to steal away pretty young things like you!”

“I’m honored to share a dance with you, Miss Demeter,” Misto said, feeling a little braver. The music ended and they parted, Mistoffelees offering a small bow.

Demeter held onto his hand, pleading, “Darling, don’t go so soon.”

“Demeter, you can’t monopolize him all night!” A man and woman who had been dancing nearby intercepted Misto’s retreat. Misto immediately recognized the man as Skimbleshanks; he had been dancing with a redhead he hadn’t met before. “A swap, then!” Skimble announced brightly. "Young man, you with Jellylorum, and I'll impress Demeter with some new moves."

Demeter visibly pouted. “You know I don’t like dancing with Skimble, Jellylorum--he is too aggressive.”

Jellylorum smiled widely, a flash of perfect teeth. “You’re Munk’s little magician, right? Will you show me a trick?”

Munk appeared between all of them, grasping Mistoffelees by the waist.

“So sorry, friends, but you simply must allow me one dance with my own date?” Munk kissed Demeter’s hand again; she blushed and swatted him playfully.

“Fine, fine, but I’m coming for you both later!”

Misto let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, as Munkustrap gracefully transitioned them into a dance hold. “Shall we?” Munk asked with a smile, his dancer’s posture elegant and captivating.

“Munk, I’ve already forgotten everyone’s names,” Misto mourned, clutching his shoulder with what was approaching a death grip.

Munkustrap led easily, covering far more of the dance floor than Mistoffelees was prepared for. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll see everyone at the next party, and they’ll be too drunk to remember that you met before.”

The closeness of Munkustrap, his comfort, his confidence, all intoxicating. Mistoffelees couldn’t resist pulling closer, sheltering in the curve of Munk’s neck, smelling his cologne, faces nearly touching. Munk’s arms were so effortlessly strong, moving him where he needed to go, perfectly in time with music that he could barely hear over his own thundering pulse.

The music stopped and polite applause rose from the ballroom. “Let’s get another drink,” Munkustrap suggested.

From the small stage came a screech of microphone feedback. The string quartet had exited and been replaced by one of Misto’s cafe coworkers-- Jenny? She was currently fighting with the microphone stand and swatting away the hotel staff trying to assist her.

Munkustrap beamed. “I didn’t realize that Jenny would be sharing a spoken word performance with us tonight! What a treat.”

Mistoffelees stared at him with skepticism, jaw dropped. No, Munk really meant it-- were his eyes getting misty??

From the stage, Jenny had given up on the mic and had decided to just shout instead. There was some cursing involved.

Event manager Jemima, long black dress hiked up, pushed her way through the crowd towards the stage, moaning “No no no no not like this oh god--”

“How about that drink?” Misto said through a forced smile.

  


* * *

  


Another drink turned into many drinks, and Mistoffelees felt pleasantly weightless in the back of the taxi. He was nuzzling into Munk’s shoulder with some insistence, trying to get closer, pressing his face into Munk’s shirt. “Tugger said next time he’d give me drugs.”

Munk coughed hard.

“I like Tugger. He had nice hair.” Misto was quite sure his speech wasn’t slurring. Right?

Munkustrap chuckled, and Misto could feel the reverberations against his cheek. “I’m sure Tugger likes you, too.”

Mistoffelees sighed wistfully, grazing his nose against the dip of Munk’s shoulder. “I want you to like me.”

Munk tipped Misto’s chin up and pressed their lips together, brief but firm. “You did great tonight, everyone was as charmed as I was.”

Mistoffelees felt heat rising in his cheeks. “Kiss me again.”

The taxi came to a stop in front of their building. That was lucky.

Mistoffelees was giggling as he pulled Munk out of the back seat, feeling giddy, feeling hopeful. They kissed in the elevator, inelegance and intensity, Misto fumbling with Munk’s necktie while Munk shook off his jacket. Misto grumbled impatiently when they parted so Munk could unlock the door, planting kisses on the back of his neck, reaching around his waist to untuck his shirt.

The door closed and Munkustrap immediately pushed Mistoffelees back against it, devouring his mouth, tongues meeting and tangling, mouths swallowing moans. Misto arched his back, greedy arms pulling Munk against him, wanting to feel everything. Munkustrap deftly spun him around, pressing Misto’s chest against the door, burying his face in Misto’s neck and lathing it with his tongue. Misto shuddered and thrust his hips back, hungry for contact, feeling the tension growing in Munk’s body, feeling his own arousal coiling in his stomach. Munk’s mouth applied delicious pressure just below his ear, such a sweet spot, and a ragged cry fell from Misto’s lips.

In an instant, Munk had pulled away, leaving Mistoffelees panting against the door, utterly confused. “I’m sorry,” said Munk, distant. Why was he so far away?

He could still taste Munkustrap on his lips, feel his breath. “Why?” Misto tried to ask with some decorum but it came out desperate. “Why do you always stop?” Mistoffelees placed his forehead against the door, eyes squeezed shut, feeling the cool wood on his flushed skin. His voice broke. “Do… do you even want this?” He took a measured breath and turned around. “Do you even want me?”

Munkustrap’s expression was closed off. He ran a hand over his own face, inhaling deeply, trying to steady his breathing. “Can you come sit with me?”

They sat side by side on the sofa, Mistoffelees internally pleading with himself to say something, anything, mind a blur.

Munk slid to the floor to crouch, settling between Misto’s legs, hands a steady weight above his knees. His face was tipped up to Mistoffelees and his brow was furrowed. “I haven’t been completely up front with you.”

Misto’s heart stopped. Munk wasn’t attracted to him. Munk was in love with someone else. Munk was tired of him. Had Munk even wanted a relationship? Oh my god was Munk _straight--_

“Before I met you, I was with someone who was… not very kind to me.” Munk’s tone was measured. “It’s why I’m trying to be so careful.”

Misto drew a sharp breath, thought spiral fully interrupted. “I’ll kill them.”

Munkustrap chuckled softly, eyes crinkling a bit. “Thank you, I think?” His features closed back up, eyes clouded. “It was very easy to be together when things were good. I think we were happy. But I was… very vulnerable after my injury. It was a difficult time. I was in a dark place, and he resented the change in our lifestyle. Losing the money, losing the fame, it was too much. Things got… bad.”

Mistoffelees grasped Munk’s hands against his knees, too hard, knuckles white. Was it possible to be feeling so many things at once? Anger, relief, frustration, concern, longing, hate--

Munk looked down at their joined hands, gripped firmly back. “I felt wholly dependent on him, and I didn’t know how to leave. So I tolerated things … things I shouldn’t have. When I finally got out, I could see things more clearly. I knew I’d never want someone else to be in that position. I’m afraid, Mistoffelees. I’m afraid you’ll feel trapped, or obligated, and that’s truly the very last thing I’d ever want.”

Mistoffelees clasped his hands to Munk’s cheeks, pulling his face up towards his own. “Munk, do you love me?”

Munk’s eyes met his, a tableau of honesty. “From the first moment.”

“Then kiss me.”

Munkustrap surged up to meet Mistoffelees’ mouth, grasping his head with both hands, slender fingers carding through his hair with just the right pressure. “Yes, yes, please,” Mistoffelees moaned into the kiss, determined to convey his passion, his excitement, in the clearest terms possible for his reticent partner. His mouth slid open to let Munk’s tongue explore, tasting his depths, sharing breath.

“You taste like champagne,” Mistoffelees pulled back and whispered, licking his lips. “It’s perfect, you are perfect.” He took Munk’s hand, placed a resolute kiss on the inside of his wrist. If Munk needed to know he wanted this, he'd make it perfectly clear. Misto rose, and led Munk to his bedroom.

Misto pulled himself onto the bed, urging Munk on top of him, unbuttoning his dress shirt with more persistence than grace. Using his bared teeth, Munk tugged at the bow tie that had caused so much angst earlier that night, undoing it completely before pulling open his collar to ravage the tender flesh of Mistoffelees’ neck. Misto didn’t hold back as a wave of pleasure overcame him, small panting gasps that distorted to a full throated moan when Munk’s entire weight slotted against his thin frame. “More,” escaped from his lips like a prayer.

Shirt no longer a barrier, Munk traced kisses down Mistoffelees’ chest, breath searing hot. He closed soft lips around Misto’s nipple, warm wet pressure, and Misto arched his back, pushing into it, urging for more. Butterflies danced over his burning skin. His pants felt so tight he feared he might pass out. “Please, Munk,” he sighed, hips seeking friction against the older man’s thigh, “touch me.”

Deft fingers unbuttoned his pants and worked the zipper down. The sudden freedom made his head spin. Munk buried his face in Misto’s neck, whispered “Is this what you want?”

 _So chivalrous,_ Misto’s mind burned as he chanted, “Yes, yes, oh god, yes.” Munk dipped his hand inside the open fly to palm his erection, underwear all that separated them now. Munk’s lips latched to that sweet spot on his neck as he moved towards the waistband of Misto’s briefs.

“Take your clothes off,” Misto tried to sound collected before he lost his sense completely, but it still reeked of desperation. “I want to touch you.”

Munkustrap smiled, and Misto thought his heart might shatter.

Mistoffelees closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and shimmied out of his own pants while Munk made quick work of his own disheveled clothing. Munkustrap was fit and gorgeous, all toned sculpted lines that brought a blush to Misto’s cheeks. How was he possibly getting harder?

Then Munk was back on him, deep kisses swallowing up his moans, nothing separating them, heated skin on heated skin. “Munk,” Misto hissed, hands finally roaming over the man he’d desired for so long, rolling their hips together, punishing friction as erections aligned. “Munk, I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

“Let me,” Munkustrap whispered, elegant fingers wrapping around both their cocks, hand moving in smooth strokes, sweet pressure driving Misto to the brink. He tried to hold back, wanted this velvet closeness to last forever, but the tide won and he was spilling over, back arched, stars behind his eyes.

Mistoffelees was panting, body gone boneless, as Munk found his own completion with a bitten lip and the most delicious gasps. Munk collapsed on top of him, both a beautiful mess.

The room was struck silent except for the echoes of heavy breathing, Munk a comforting weight against Misto’s chest. “Thank you,” Mistoffelees whispered, heart full.

Munkustrap pushed himself onto his elbows to look down at him, an affable smirk on his lips. “I’ll do better next time.”

Misto flushed and shook his head vigorously. “Not that-- well, I mean, yes that, that was incredible, obviously, I mean-- I mean, thank you for telling me.”

Munk stood, unfairly graceful after their exertion, and fetched a washcloth. Mistoffelees groaned at the contact on his oversensitive skin-- Munk placed an apologetic kiss on his stomach. Misto's eyes were heavy and he was so very looking forward to postcoital sleep when Munk scooped him up into his arms. He made an undignified chirping sound. Stupid ballet strength!

"Come on, we'll sleep in my room tonight."

Settled under the covers in Munkustrap's bed, enveloped by strong arms and surrounded by the scent of his lover, Mistoffelees slept blissfully.

**Author's Note:**

> All the Oscars to this film for every time they lick their lips.
> 
> Thank you to snowhite_dahlia for the beta!


End file.
